Writing
-
Was anything remainingafter we were engrainingour histories into pages of skin?Our love rose like tides,ending in withered roses.Our faces were watching stars,in this mutual formation of scars. You are being made bountiful,in love with a different typeof feathered life. You are soaring,in hearing your heartbeatskip over me. I am held back.I remain not chosenfor a…
-
How were you ableto relieve it, to deceive itwhen rain came to be caughtin your eyes, encrusted with iron,encrusted with blood? You knew what we were losingof what we could not get back.You know its cost, as our limbswere painted on a cross.We drained all those hoursupon withering flowers. Nothing had been meantto be returned…
-
Extract these prayers,dissolve our wishesagainst shooting stars.We have sat still,letting desperation bein these words, to bewith each other, in a momentwhen we will be connected,while broken in dispassion. Isn’t a palm filled,better than hunger?Or are we stallingat an overlooked conclusion?Have we forfeitedwhat we failed to let die? A kind of peacemight lurk beyond us,though we…
-
When should I saythose words, for you to stray?You are lost even when found,dropping tears without a soundamong the countless,over a crystal lake. Nothing shows your reflection,though many were thereto hold your hand, in carefulor careless selection. In anyone’s eyes,you are mirrored in disguise.You will be reminded,never remade. “Everlasting”is a word you flee from,deciding that…
-
Symptoms come loose,screams come close –sounds that have exited,only to returnwith more danger. I’ve remembered each timeyou have severed yourself,outside this wall of fog.Connected in exhalation,disconnected without remission. You’ve respected that burn.A fever, a torch to illuminateyour disorder, in beingsomeone who remains broken.You count shardslike how I count fingerprints,upon your form –a vase to hold…
-
A backlogto remind a spiritthat it must completewhat it cannot delete.A spinning coin,a note of which sideit might fall,though there’s a paradecelebrating both ends. I am rewindingmy mind to see myselfdrifting to either sideof a moon, cast in either blackor white, in spiteof a need to reengagewith what’s right. I know not of what’s right,even…
-
Draw in that company.Decide on what to conveywhen contours remainto design that shape,caught in the blue,out of the blueof an ocean’s vastness,of a soul’s depth. I wish for what mustalways commit to that lustbeneath sheets, an angel’s wings.Will guilt be freedwhen we are both highin temptation’s lead? I’ve captured our storyin pages, boundless and discrete,emptied…
-
Lost underseveral million dropletsof sweat, rain,bitterness in pain,for you still lingerin this smoke,blending in with mein broken mirrors. Long enough,it has been, to labelthis experience with remorse.Nothing has been hereto refrain me, to restrain mefrom blossoming a thorn,from an image this torn. Blinded, stinging eyessee nothing of clarityof my disguise,while I am lengthening rippleswith memories…
-
I’ve signaled it,your smooth rushinto bottomless surrender.A love that has held its flavor,throughout these yearswhen we’ve merged, to continue to meldat a kiss, one that swellsour aura, towards Heaven. You’ve known,at those catastropheswhere we’ve grown,seeking rediscoveryamong lightless times.I’d love to still our presence,to capture our secondsin an hourglass of remembrance. Come close,bringing that curtainwith careful…
-
I’ve never knownwhen to remember less,supporting the existenceof a scentless garden,with needless resistance. When I seek a foot forward,I am moved. I am broughtback to those ways,among these cloudy days. I’ve never learnedwhen to accept a sunset,healing hurt with further hurt,hoping that pain will returnto fill an empty cup. When I place a glancetowards a…
-
Handprint.Imprint mein your memory,though I’ll be restless,awakening every hourto keep you sour,to keep you knowingof those seeds you’re sowing. You are walkingacross a thin rope,hanging onto symmetryin its tainted mimicry. You are soakingyour eyes, in lakes,hoping to be shapedin discrete formations. Footprint.Walk aside,though I’ll be inside,waiting for you to fall,waiting for you to calla name,…
-
These symptomsof a sickness where rustwill form upon skin,upon a graying texturewhere oldness becomes coldness,as eyes are decidingmore of an endingthan these unquenched lips. I remind myself,back to a timewhen light came aliveat first glance, at a momentwhen a spark had beenan instant to be revived,when delusion had beenthat sustenance to survive. I recall that…
Modern Romanticism 